


golden

by PureEdge (reddysteddy)



Category: Doll Eye
Genre: Art, Cutting, Purple Prose, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:54:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28400481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reddysteddy/pseuds/PureEdge
Summary: pastery expresses herself in a way that her father would never approve of.
Kudos: 7





	golden

pastery trudged down the long hallway towards her bedroom, walking slowly so that the trinkets in her pocket would not jingle. she put an ever shaky hand to the brass doorknob and twisted her wrist until the door creaked open. despite most other parts of her father's home being scoured of imperfections the hinges leading into her chambers were in much need of oiling. 

the darkness she had grown familiar with loomed into view. there was little to pour one's eyes over- a cold fireplace nestled into the wall, a bare canopy bed with simple white sheets, a dusty hardwood floor, a small toychest with barely anything in it, a door leading to an equally sparse bathroom. the only thing at the end of the hallway that felt note worthy was the barred, meter wide window that peered over the street. much like the room there was not much to gaze at- a simple alleyway that rarely was visited- but it let in the sky and air of nature, and that alone made it invaluable to the young woman. 

kicking her loafers into the corner of the room pastery knelt onto the edge of the heaving mattress. it sagged beneath her weight as if she were not malnourished and bordering on being underweight. she reached between the folds of fabric around her chest and pulled out one of the objects she was required to be secretive about. it felt slim in her fingers and looked even more so when she held it in front of her eyes. the tip of the needle glinted in the light seeping in through the window, silent yet maddeningly beckoning her. 

she slid the hem of her sleeve up her elbow. goosebumps coated the skin on her forearm as it was exposed to the cool night air. pastery brought the point to the tip of her index finger and applied gentle pressure, feeling it slowly mount and the tension increase until a droplet of red slid down its shaft and onto her own pale digits. a shaking breath exuded from her mouth. she was half surprised that a cloud did not fill the space in front of her lips.

she rotated her arm until her palm was facing the ceiling. with languid, almost peaceful movements she dragged the needle down the thick skin of her hand. her muscles flexed involuntarily wherever it touched, like a creature disturbing the ground as it tread. she paused once it reached the border between her palm and wrist. 

as impulse took more control she yanked the penetrator down her arm as if jerked by an invisible marionette master. a thick line of color appeared in the wake of her movement. she suckled the inside of her cheek as crimson stained her pallid fur. red rolled down her skin until it slid to the other side of her arm that was shielded from view. it faded from an angry tomato hue to more of a blushing pink the further it escaped from its source. 

iotas of sting shot through her spine as the adrenaline of the puncture began to wear off. it burned. not in the same way that fire did, but it burned. 

pastery traced the shape of the line she had carved with her pupils. as the blood poured onto the cloth covering her thighs an idea stirred to life in her mind. she grazed the point against her skin once more, this time with much less hesitation. with a shockingly steady grip she spilled more liquid onto herself. an arc appeared this time, then another, and another, all birthed form the same stroke. two more similar shapes covered the exposed flesh next to them. three more presses to her arm, each a single stripe. then circles over the rows, etched above them like halos. 

the figure came together as she lifted the needle away. she swiped her palm over the lines, catching any excess blood onto her hand. she felt something swell in her chest. not the pounding of terror or aching yearn, but something good. it was bright, golden, ecstatic. perhaps this is what pride felt like, or so it had been described to her by elderly men she did not remember the names of. this was a thing she had never felt before, yet wanted to know more of. 

pastery let the image of a lily settle into her skin. slowly it clotted from wrist to elbow, no longer spilling moisture and leaving only rosey tissue. only then did she drift into the bathroom and soak her arm in frigid water. she turned her face towards the mirror, curious as to what she looked like. pupils dilated, face the color of wine, hair matted and lips trembling. she drank in the sight, trying to burn it into her mind the same way a camera snaps a picture. 

she let her sleeve fall down her wrist. though her artwork had been concealed she felt it agitated against the fabric of her gown. every waking second was filled with reminders of what she had done. 

she should have felt terrified. but she did not. she truly did not.


End file.
